


Mind Games

by surestsmile



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-02
Updated: 2011-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surestsmile/pseuds/surestsmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bad things happen when Joshua is bored. Hanekoma knows, but he lets them happen anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind Games

Hanekoma allows Joshua the freedom to wander through the rooms of his tiny cafe, and it's only a matter of time before Joshua intrudes into his studio. He doesn't really mind; Hanekoma has very little to hide, and when even his identity as CAT is quickly ferreted out when Joshua was alive, well, there really is no point in keeping secrets from the boy. Unimportant ones, anyway. Besides, Hanekoma is proud of his work, and when he finds Joshua looking at his canvases and rifling through his sketchbooks, he only laughs and asks, "Do you want some coffee while you're at it?"

He isn't surprised when Joshua eventually finds the drawings of his other composers, chinese inks and waterpaints and charcoal. His predecessor can be clearly seen from the top of the pile, the water colours eternally unfinished. Briefly, Hanekoma wonders if his renditions of Joshua will be digital, to keep up with the age, before shelving it for later contemplation. He's always been more fond of traditional media, though it doesn't mean he can't try new things.

"These...are other Composers?"

"I have been Producer of this Game for a while," Hanekoma says with a wry smile, cup in one hand, the other resting across his stomach as he leans against the doorframe. Joshua's face is carefully blank, although there is a tiny frown etched on his forehead.

"I'm rather disappointed that there are none of me," he finally remarks, and tilts his head to look at Hanekoma out of the corner of his eye. "Considering that we've known each other for at least a decade now. Am I that poor of a subject?"

"Patience is a virtue," Hanekoma drolly extols. "Besides, you're looking in the wrong place. You didn't become a Composer until recently, after all."

"Ah." Joshua immediately snaps the sketchbook shut. "So where should I have looked then?"

Hanekoma sips at his coffee slowly, and then tilts his chin towards another pile of sketchbooks. "You were a terrible customer, but a customer nonetheless."

The slow smile on Joshua's face causes his fingers to itch for pencil and paper, and while the youth makes his way towards the pile, Hanekoma also reaches for his ever-present sketchbooks, setting his coffee down on a convenient shelf. He'll have to remember to retrieve it later, congealed coffee is not something Hanekoma particularly relished cleaning.

But Joshua has found the books, already flipping through them, and Hanekoma can feel the amusement radiating off of him, a warm pleasant vibe. "Brat," Hanekoma murmurs, but there is no vehemence behind it. His pen is already put to work, hastily hatching out Joshua's expression. It's easy to draw the fall of his hair, the curve of his ear, the familiar line of his neck, because Joshua really is quite the promising subject.

And he allows himself to be caught. "Honestly, Mr. H," Joshua says when he lifts his eyes. "You could just ask."

"Perhaps I shall," Hanekoma replies smoothly. He caps his pen, and turns the page over. Joshua's eye-lashes are lowered as he takes in the quick sketch, and his smile turns speculative before he says, "Well. If it cures my boredom."

They arrange a date and a time, and Joshua picks up a sketchbook to keep for himself. Hanekoma doesn't mind, he's sold many works, and given away much more. Besides, he sees it as a form of trade.

Hanekoma closes WildKat on that day, and in the morning he makes a pathetic attempt at cleaning up his studio before willingly letting himself get distracted by mundane things like the mail. He only manages to wash the old paint off his palettes and put on fresh paper, the rest of the time is spent reading the newspapers, occasionally taking a black pen to some paragraphs to find a poem, and waiting for Joshua.

It's a fifty-fifty chance that Joshua will appear at the appointed time. He's somewhat of a cat in that manner, Hanekoma reflects, and while he thinks he won't be too disappointed if Joshua doesn't turn up, he'll have closed up WildKat for nothing. Not that he relies greatly on the income that WildKat brings, but Hanekoma does so enjoy foisting expensive coffee on his customers (and well, maybe he likes making small-talk with them too).

But then Joshua does appear, sauntering slowly through the side door, and Hanekoma is glad to shed boredom, and automatically offers a cup with its pricetag attached. Joshua's mouth curls up a little at that, but he accepts it with both hands while gleefully ignoring the tab Hanekoma waves at him, moving on straight to the second floor. Hanekoma can only laugh, thinks _Oh well, there's always another time_ and follows him.

He starts talking about his ideas for the sitting, and Joshua nods as though he's listening, sipping occasionally from the cup. Hanekoma knows better, of course, but he prattles on anyway, "We could always start easy, just some simple everyday poses, quick sketches, that sort of thing-"

And then Joshua calmly sets the cup down beside him, and pulls his shirt over his head, putting it on his lap before undoing the first button on his dress pants.

"-or we can do... _anatomical studies_ ," Hanekoma finishes, somehow managing to keep his smile on.

"I was wondering what it would be like to model naked," Joshua responds casually, neatly folding his clothes, but Hanekoma can feel the smugness rolling off Joshua, and it starts him laughing. The lengths the boy will go to strengthen his argument, how truly astonishing. And incorrigible as well, to do a thing such as this. Ordinary people would have thought twice about baring their bodies even to an artist, but then, Joshua _is_ Joshua.

Hanekoma is only grateful that it had taken Joshua half a decade to learn the Game inside out, to discover all its various permutations despite the long breaks between weeks, and half that time spent to identify the then-Composer. It means that Joshua's Composer-form is at the nice age of twenty-two, rather than the fifteen when Joshua started talking of his plans to take over Shibuya.

Even if there is the off-chance that Joshua could have done away with all the watching and the preparation and still win due to genius and imagination and _sheer dumb luck_ , Hanekoma thinks he might draw the line at sketching nude fifteen-year-olds. If only because he doesn't relish the idea of being arrested by the police should he be careless enough to leave his drawings in the RG.

Still, he can't help chortling, "Exhibitionist," at Joshua, who promptly retorts with a shrug of slim shoulders, "One is only handsome once."

He has to concede to Joshua the point, and then sweeps an arm out. "Sit anywhere you like."

"I always do," Joshua murmurs, and walks over to the only piece of comfortable-looking furniture, an old chaise longue. Hanekoma remembers fondly of collapsing on it often during long, dark nights, so much that it's really more of a bed to him. Joshua arches a brow at the sheets piled haphazardly over faded red covers, but sinks gracefully into them anyway.

"I'll try to make the sitting quick," Hanekoma says while he adjusts the studio lights, dimming some, moving others to accentuate the natural light falling through his windows. He isn't sure how truly interested Joshua is in modelling, but this is as good a opportunity as any. His Composer looks at him as he moves, stretches languidly once on sheets, and then archly replies, "I can be patient too."

Hanekoma laughs. "That remains to be believed," he teases, and pulls a stool up. Joshua's brow creases just a little, before he settles partially on his front, head pillowed by a small cushion. Hanekoma can feel Joshua's gaze on him, but he isn't bothered, not when he's got acres of smooth skin to map. Besides, he'll be staring at Joshua too, so that's fair.

He tells Joshua that he's free to move as he likes, to get up and walk if he wants, or even fall asleep. "After all," Hanekoma says as he begins drawing the guidelines, "it will be pretty boring, I assure you." He laughs again when Joshua gives a delicate snort, and his body curls, just a little. "It smells like you," he idly comments, and Hanekoma chuckles at that observation.

The sitting falls into silence then, save for the ocassional scratch of the pen. Joshua turns out to be a surprisingly good sitter, quiet and patient. Eventually Hanekoma looks up only to find Joshua with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling at regular intervals. Hanekoma smiles at that, and finally begins to draw in Joshua's expression, soft and unguarded by a smile for once.

He finishes the drawing quicker than he expects, and after carefully inking it Hanekoma thinks a nice hot cup of housebrew is in order. Joshua is still asleep when he glances over to the couch, and after a few seconds of thought Hanekoma pulls one loose sheet over his Composer's naked form, and trods downstairs for coffee.

As the machine brewed, he pulls up one half of the shutters, takes yet another glance. He never tires of looking at the scenery, of looking at Shibuya, always changing, never stagnant. Hanekoma can see the different influences of past Composers, layers upon layers, each unique but still mixing together to form the Shibuya of today, and he wonders what kind of changes Joshua will bring.

His coffee dings when it's ready, and Hanekoma makes a sound of pleasure as he pours out a cup and inhales the fragrant aroma. It's the only other human indulgence he allows himself besides his work as CAT, as much as his friends and previous Composers used to tease him for it. Every man has a vice, Hanekoma thinks, and if caffeine is his, well, he could do so much worse.

The ceiling above him creaks, once, twice, three times in a line. Hanekoma's mouth curls around his coffee, Joshua must be awake after his impomptu nap. He goes back up with a pitcher of water and a glass, certain that Joshua will be thirsty, and stops short when he sees Joshua bending over the canvas.

"Hmmm," Joshua hums. "I doubt I'm that angelic-looking, Mr. H, but nevertheless, the composition is flattering." Slim fingers hover above the lines, threatening to smudge. Hanekoma thinks Joshua would have done so if it would get a panicked rise out of him. "You drew my face when I was sleeping."

"I like working on new expressions," Hanekoma says honestly, and Joshua smiles. "Ah."

"You can put your clothes back on now," Hanekoma suggests mildly, setting his things down. The sheet that Joshua drags off the couch is wrapped haphazardly around his waist, and while Hanekoma has already seen whatever Joshua has to offer, he still has some sense of propriety, private housing and different frequencies be damned.

"I don't know," Joshua's tone is light, playful, "it feels really comfortable, walking around like this. Free." He moves away from the drawing, nearly sashays up to Hanekoma. The drop of the sheet is deliberate, as are the hands that reach up to wrap around Hanekoma's neck. He presses his body up against Hanekoma's.

Joshua isn't normally so forward about what he wants, so Hanekoma thinks he really _is_ bored. He grabs one of Joshua's wrists anyway, not unkindly, but applying just enough pressure as a warning. However, the other one settles around his neck. "You shouldn't toy with people," Hanekoma says.

"Aren't you curious?" Joshua replies with a coy smile. "I am."

"Curiosity kills cats, didn't you hear?"

His Composer doesn't try to take his hand back. "Ah, but I also heard that cats have nine lives."

He forces out a grin. "Even so, this cat isn't interested in losing one."

"I won't bite." Joshua's face is uncomfortably close, his mouth nearly hovering over Hanekoma's. "Promise."

Hanekoma has half a mind to shove Joshua away, except it's really not his style. He's not really a stranger to such advances, not when he picks up questionable models, but somehow he finds himself drawing the line at Joshua. Maybe it's how he always sees his Composer as the fifteen-year-old brat who plotted his way into Shibuya Underground, even though Joshua is older now.

At any rate, Joshua seems to be waiting for his next move in this admittedly weird dance, and to be honest Hanekoma has no idea what is the next step to take. Mercifully, the small bell he keeps on his counter for customers rings. The tension breaks between them, and Hanekoma can hear girlish laughter coming from the stairwell. Customers. He remembers the shutters.

"Excuse me, is anyone here?"

"You have customers," Joshua notes with a careful look of surprise. "I thought you closed for the day."

"I pulled up one of the shutters when I went down," Hanekoma says, and chuckles. "Must have forgotten to put it back."

"I see." Joshua's eyes are half-lidded, his lips turned slightly up. Hanekoma thinks he really needs to learn to feel wary whenever Joshua does that, but then Joshua moves back, turning on his heel as he says airily, "Well, I guess you should attend to them then."

Hanekoma blinks, caught off-guard by the sudden loss in interest. Joshua has apparently dismissed him, he is already picking up his clothes, slipping the shirt on first. The muscles in his back move, and Hanekoma's fingers itch again for a pencil before another query floats up to tear him away.

They are schoolgirls, thirsty from a long walk down Miyashita Park. Hanekoma indulges their quick-tongued chatter, but blithely waves off their complaints about the cost of coffee. It's not as though he deliberately hides the price-list, and Hanekoma thinks he does offer quality for price, even as one of the girls shoots a dubious look at her drink.

Eventually, they leave when the sunlight hits the windows at a low degree, and Hanekoma wipes the tables down, puts up the chairs. He's almost forgotten that Joshua is apparently still at WildKat, mostly because Joshua usually comes and goes as and when he likes with no prior warning, and nearly jumps out of his skin when the other man comes up from behind him, and places a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm wondering if I could keep the picture you drew of me today," Joshua says almost innocently, and Hanekoma fights to stop his heart from hammering out of his chest before replying, "Sure. It's not a problem." Joshua's hand seems to linger a little before it slips off, and Hanekoma pulls down the shutters and locks them before following Joshua up the stairs again.

Joshua is humming a funny tune as Hanekoma wraps the new drawing in brown paper, tying it up with twine. He doesn't really know what to feel about the loss of the picture, certainly he has many others, but as he takes one last look, in his heart, he hopes that he gets another chance at seeing Joshua off-guard again.

"Thank you," Joshua says when he passes him the package, and Hanekoma proceeds to wave him off too when Joshua grabs him and kisses him, close-mouthed and slow, and to his horror Hanekoma finds himself kissing back. Joshua is smiling again when he breaks it, licks his lips and says, "See, I told you I won't bite." Hanekoma just stares at him, cheeks feeling hot.

"You're such a mystery, Mr. H," Joshua chuckles, and he tucks the drawing safely under his arm.

Hanekoma barely musters up the rebuttal, a weak, "Well, it takes one to know one," but by then, Joshua is already gone.


End file.
